


The Tol Eressëan Tales: A Gardener's Plot

by Ghyste



Series: The Tol Eressëan Tales [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Complete, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghyste/pseuds/Ghyste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to return Gimli's favour, but is thwarted at every turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tol Eressëan Tales: A Gardener's Plot

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the Tol Eressëan Tales - an occasional series of AU humour fics set, somewhat unsurprisingly, on Tol Eressëa sometime during the early centuries of the Fourth Age.

It must be admitted that the kitchen table at Frodo and Sam's new home on Tol Eressëa had been put to a wide variety of uses. Several of these had nothing to do with the culinary arts though, to be fair, foodstuffs were often involved to one degree or another.

Upon this occasion, however, Sam was using it to map out his Grand Plan for getting Legolas and Gimli together. He’d spent a largely sleepless night trying to come up with something, but all those hours watching the shadows on the ceiling and listening to Frodo's breathing had produced nothing more than a few random thoughts. Rising with the dawn, he was now to be found trying to put these down on paper. Frodo always believed in setting his thoughts down on paper and, since pretty much anything Frodo believed in was all right with Sam, he was inclined to think that it was worth a try. Things were not, however, going any better this morning because thoughts of what Frodo *would* do inevitably led to Sam remembering that, planning notwithstanding, what Frodo *had* done the night before had made a significant contribution to his lack of sleep.

Still, he was nothing if not persistent and had at least managed to set down his ideas on a number of pieces of paper. These he was arranging and re-arranging in front of him. Planning a romance was really a bit like gardening, he reasoned, so the first thing that you needed was a good ground plan. If you got the right things in the right places, with a little effort they would blossom and grow. 

So absorbed was he in this task that, at first, he failed to notice Frodo leaning against the doorjamb. But, at length, he became aware of Frodo’s gaze and looked up. Unlike Sam, Frodo had not taken the time to dress before making his way to the kitchen and was clad, somewhat provocatively, in nothing more than a loosely tied robe. The invitation inherent in his attire was, however, nothing to that which gleamed in his eyes and Sam could tell that he was likely to have to write off the entire morning. Not that that was a bad thing, of course, but he was just getting into his stride and would have appreciated a few more hours without interruption.

“Why Sam," cooed Frodo, "what *are* you so busy with at this hour of the morning?”

Sam was quite well aware of the subtextual *instead of being in bed with me* behind Frodo's seemingly innocuous question, but chose to ignore it, saying only: “I’m plannin’.”

Frodo eyed him speculatively. "Planning what?”

Sam returned the look with a stern one of his own. “Weren’t you listening last night?”

Frodo's lips curled into a provocative smile. “I gave up somewhere between *please* and *harder*, though a replay might jog my memory.”

Realising that he was but putting off the inevitable, Sam replied patiently, “No, not then. I mean earlier – about Legolas and Gimli.”

Frodo had that thoughtful look about him that always made Sam slightly nervous, particularly when he was in this sort of mood, but “ah,” was all he said. Of course, where Frodo was concerned there was a wealth of meaning that could be read into a single "ah". Oh well, he'd better find out what was on his mind: 

“Ah?” 

Frodo toyed with the sash of his robe. "Should I be jealous?"

Sam quickly suppressed a brief but frightening image of a rather ill matched threesome and replied hastily, "Don't be daft. I only want to do them a favour."

The part of Sam's mind that had been prevented from entertaining him with images of naked dwarves got its retaliation by noting that that belt of Frodo's was going to come undone if he didn't stop playing with it. Try as Sam might, there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop the internal speculation since, on days like this, Frodo seemed to be blessed with the ability to turn the most mundane of Sam's thoughts into erotic fantasies. Indeed, Sam became so busy trying not to think about anything at all that he almost missed Frodo's next remark.

"I'd prefer it if you were doing me a favour…"

Slightly affronted, Sam felt obliged to point out that he had only recently done Frodo a number of favours. At that, Frodo's gaze went all unfocused and Sam realised that he had said quite the wrong thing if he wished to escape unmolested. As if to bear out Sam's assumption, Frodo began to stalk towards the table, much like a predator closing in upon a particularly tasty morsel. 

“You know, you’re very attractive when you’re so determined, Sam."

Sam made one last futile attempt to stem the seemingly inexorable tide of Frodo's libido and put duty before pleasure though, to be frank, neither his heart nor the part of him that was voting wholeheartedly in favour of the molestation option was really in it. However, he replied stoutly, "I'm thanking you for the compliment, but I'm still busy."

Sam bent his head and concentrated on the pieces of paper before him though, in truth, he could hardly focus on the words, as Frodo continued in velvet tones: "Too busy for me, Sam?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Sam could hear the whisper of silky fabric sliding to the floor. Nonetheless he continued to keep his eyes resolutely lowered, though it didn't really do much good since his mind helpfully provided him with a blow-by-blow account of what must be happening right in front of him.

"Quite sure?"

Tempted beyond measure, Sam looked up…big mistake.

"You're really asking for it now, Sir."

Frodo sighed. "Sam, I've been asking for it for ages."

Ah well, duty be damned. Legolas and Gimli's romance had been waiting for sixty-odd years; it would just have to wait a bit longer. Abandoning thought of anything beyond that which was displayed so temptingly before him, Sam pounced…

***

It was quite some time later that an exhausted but happy Sam managed to get back to his planning, and even then he was delayed by the need to relocate all of his pieces of paper - including the one that was, quite unaccountably, stuck to Frodo's back. However, even when the pieces were straightened out and once more arranged upon the table, Sam found that inspiration continued to elude him. He needed to get outside and into the garden. That, after all, was where he was at his most creative - although Frodo would undoubtedly have disputed the assertion had he been asked for his opinion on the matter.

Shortly later Sam found that, with his hands busily at work, his brain was at liberty to concentrate on his plan. He was sure he’d been on the right track earlier when he'd likened loving to gardening and if he could just work out what kind of plants Legolas and Gimli most closely resembled, maybe he’d have a better idea of how to tackle the problem.

He’d long since decided that Frodo was one of those new strains of iris about which his Gaffer had been so scathing. Spectacular looking they were, of that there was no doubt, but needing considerably more care than the old varieties that you pretty much planted and left to themselves. Still, no matter what his Gaffer might have said, when he saw Frodo bloom he knew it was certainly worth the effort.

Gimli, he thought, was probably a shrub - something that liked dry soil and dense shade, prickly to the touch but rich in foliage. Not showy or ornamental, but with its own beauty for those who had eyes to see it. Legolas, on the other hand, was quite different - green and willowy with far more obvious charms. But how to get them together, that was the question…

Sam’s eyes fell upon a large bush at the corner of the garden and noted that it was adorned with a borrowed blanket of fragrant blossoms belonging to a plant that had twined itself through the bush's branches. How could he persuade Legolas that he, like the honeysuckle, ought to twine himself around his shrubby companion?

Frustrated, Sam bent over and began to tear some entirely blameless weeds out of the closest border, hoping that a bit of physical activity would help to clear his mind. Alas, Sam’s window of opportunity for considering the matter was short in duration since Frodo, having become bored with the text he had been translating, had come out into the garden seeking entertainment. Finding Sam in such a promising position made more than just his mind up as to what form that entertainment would take and bang, as they say, went the rest of the afternoon.

***

In the evening Sam and Frodo were due to have dinner with Legolas and Gimli. At the time it had been tendered, Sam had been more than happy to receive the invitation since it gave him the opportunity to make up for what he felt to be his and Frodo's discourtesy at Legolas' Birthday Party. They had spent most of the evening in the shrubbery where Frodo's determination to make fireworks of his own had meant that Sam had entirely missed Gimli's. Now of course, although Sam was sadly not in any position to progress anything as far as the other pair was concerned, at least he would be able to do a bit of observing. He hoped that in this more intimate gathering Frodo would think twice about distracting him the way he had on that previous occasion or, indeed, twice already today.

Sam was, of course, destined to be disappointed. Or not, depending upon which part of him you were asking.

The evening started well enough with elven wine and enough fine food to satisfy even a hobbit’s appetite. Gimli and Legolas were in extraordinarily good cheer and Sam could not help but notice the way that their eyes met every time Sam and Frodo shared a brief smile or a fleeting touch of their fingers. Sam hoped they were taking notes for future reference. 

At the end of the meal, Gimli proposed that they all go out to inspect his hops, but just as they were about to set out he and Legolas made a transparently phoney excuse to stay behind. 'Trying to be alone, eh?' thought Sam. 'Maybe I don’t need to do anything. Maybe they’ve discovered it for themselves.' He and Frodo made their way to the slope where the young plants were doing very nicely indeed, and then wandered on hand-in-hand to a more secluded location. There amidst the evening shadows it came to what Sam had expected that it might.

***

It was perhaps fortunate that Sam was otherwise engaged, for he would have been sorely disappointed at the lack of passion back on the terrace, where Legolas and Gimli were toasting rather than tasting each other.

“Your plan seems to have worked well, my friend,” said Legolas, raising a glass in his direction.

To be honest Gimli wasn't sure what exactly he had done to bring this about but, given the amount of effort he had put into it, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to take a bit of the credit. Nevertheless, as the bushes shook and sounds of pleasure drifted down on the wind he felt obliged to add: “A little too well, perhaps.” 

Legolas, who considered that he had already suffered quite enough for Sam and Frodo’s happiness, sighed and said: “So it would seem.” He stared meditatively at the glass in his hand and then placed it, untouched, on the table before him.

A sudden cry of "Mr Frodo!" broke the silence, causing Gimli to drain his drink in a single long draught. "All that energy they waste," he said, somewhat disapprovingly.

Legolas shuddered delicately. "Not to mention what it must do to their clothes." They both paused again as a long moan echoed around them, rendering any possibility of conversation futile for a moment. 

When it was over Gimli shook his head sadly. "Why must they do it so loudly?"

Legolas added, "And so often."

"I think that’s something to do with improving the species."

Legolas spread his hands helplessly. "No wonder elves don't understand."

"Not that that would explain Frodo and Sam, of course,” continued Gimli. “I mean - it's not like they're going to have children or anything."

Legolas chuckled. "Not unless one of them is part seahorse, at any rate."

Gimli grinned broadly at his friend. "It's always possible. There's a lot even the Valar don’t seem to know about hobbits."

The pair mulled the matter over for a few minutes before Legolas asked, somewhat ingenuously: "What about Dwarves?"

“Are we part seahorse?"

"No - do you want to do it a lot so that you can improve your species?"

Gimli shrugged. "It’d be a bit pointless given the number of women we've got."

Legolas’ lips twitched. He knew he shouldn’t, but he really couldn’t help himself. "Oh, I just wondered whether all that mining and beating of hot metal was a substitute for something else." All he got in return was a level stare and a flat "No," which was almost his undoing.

The noise from behind the bushes was rapidly approaching a crescendo, causing a flock of roosting birds to abruptly take flight. Legolas took this as their cue to depart as well before he collapsed in a fit of giggles and lost what was left of his dignity. 

"Do you fancy a night-cap somewhere a bit quieter?"

"So long as it doesn’t fancy me." 

Legolas slapped Gimli on the back in a reassuring fashion. “I’ll see what I can do, my friend, I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
